


Before the New Moon

by IShouldBe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Babies!, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-28 18:36:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10837023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBe/pseuds/IShouldBe
Summary: Hermione wasn't expecting...motherhoodSSHG HEA...Always :)





	1. Chapter 1

This was an evil, onyx-eyed bunny attack as I was writing Ribboned-Witch (I have 1k on Chp 26 :) ). So I got it out of my system. I'll probably get to this again soon. It's itching under my fingers...Evil thing.

* * *

"Take him. Take him,  _please_!"

Hermione gaped.

She was staring at herself in an ornate, cheval mirror. But herself starving and scarred—as if she were still caught in that Merlin-awful tent—and thrusting out a bundle of blankets. A thin wail broke though the silence of the little curio shop in which she stood.

Only thick shadow reflected in the mirror.

"Damn it, Hermione!  _Take him_."

The plane of the mirror bulged. An embroidered edge of a blanket broke free and with it the warm scents of milk and cotton and soft skin reached for her senses.

Hermione's hands were already moving. Something dragged at her. A hook in her chest, in her belly. A fierce stab of magic that shocked her down to the bone.

She pulled the bundle to her chest and stared at it. Her heart lurched.  _A baby_. A new born baby stared back up at her. Features red and scrunched. Tiny fists curled around the edges of his blanket. Another thin cry broke from him and Hermione snapped a look back to the other-her in the mirror. "What…?"

"Mine is a parallel world. We lost. Lost  _everything_." Her other self snatched at her wild, dirty hair. She snapped a look behind her, into the heavy shadows. "I have to protect him. My little Septimus." She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth and dragged it down her gaunt jaw. Her hollowed eyes swam with tears. "He's mine.  _Ours_."

"Ours…?"

"He's bonded to you. I found a place where that  _bastard_  died. And where…" She sucked in a breath and seemed to crumple in on herself. Fresh tears bled down her cheeks. "He'll have his…his father." She straightened by her will alone. Hermione almost felt the hook in her spine, pulling her up. "He needs his father, to stay in your world. He needs both of you. He's four days old. The bond—my spell—will enable you to feed him. But he  _needs_  his father. The security of a marriage bond before the next new moon."

No words came out of Hermione's mouth. None.

_Feed_  him?  _Marriage_?

And  _who_  was his father?

"I have to go." The other-her pressed a trembling hand to the mirror. "Tell them both… Tell them I love them. I will always love them.  _Always_."

The image began to fade and one question shot out of Hermione's mouth. "Who's his father?"

The reply was little more than a whisper, lost between the fading worlds. But still, it slammed into Hermione and she staggered, clutching the baby to her in shaking arms.

_"Severus Snape."_

* * *

Isn't it evil? ;-)


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

I have so many things to write, so what grabs me? This one. *eye roll at my contrary brain*

* * *

"Septimus _…Snape?_ "

Severus stared at the Book of Names sat on its lectern. He blinked and rubbed his thumb over the deep black curves of magical ink. A nip of power under his thumb-tip proved the magic true…and he frowned. There was another Snape wizard in the world. Was he…a relation? He thought  _he'd_  been the last.

Severus huffed a sour laugh. Last Prince and last Snape. And he'd been more than happy for both lines to die with him. But now…

He arched his fingers, sweeping them away and a curl of bright magic followed, filling the tiny, warded room off the Headmaster's study with fiery light. Names and dates swirled in the air, chasing around themselves in a wild confusion.

Severus gut cramped and his instincts —still fierce, though the war had been over for almost eighteen months— chased along his nerves. A lineage charm was a clear and simple spell. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

 _Septimus Snape. Born…_  Wait, that didn't make sense. The boy had two birthdays. Four days before in the early hours of the morning. And a second said he was no more than twenty minutes old.

Severus shook his head. This was supposed to be another simple look at the Book of Names. Something a Headmaster of Hogwarts did once a week, after breakfast on a Sunday. But not that day. "And trust a bloody Snape to be contrary."

He slipped his fingers through more information, untangling the blackened knot of words and numbers.

 _Birthplace_. Again, there were two listed.

_Old and New Curios, Third Ginnel of Diagon Alley. Beware of the Second Step._

_The Corner of the Old Coal Cellar, 5 Dorrit Avenue…_

The rest was a tangled mass, as if something had churned and hacked into the words, with intent to destroy the information. Which, again, made no sense. Who was hiding this child? Though it seemed to be the Snape way to be born somewhere depressingly grim. Some poor woman had given birth in a dark, dank hole in the ground. Was she hiding? Scared? _Trapped?_

Something ached in Severus' chest. Something old and bitter. The…limitation of growing up poor, how it ate away at the soul and shrank the whole world to grubby pennies. Was that the fate of this newborn?

Severus closed his eyes, his own childhood swirling in grim shadows around him.  _No_. He wrapped the past in an icy shield of occulumency and broke the lineage charm. The bright flare of the little room fell back to a single sconce set over the heavy, ancient book. The child's name stared back at him.

 _Septimus Snape._  A wry smile tugged at his mouth. Almost the other half of his own name. His mother's little emperor.

He drew in a long breath, his shoulders lifting. The Snapes hadn't had a brass farthing, but the Princes? He now had a Gringott vault groaning with galleons and all manner of nefarious works worth a king's ransom.

Septimus Snape was —about half an hour ago— in Diagon Alley. Would his mother have yet moved onto St Mungo's?

His heart thudded, a heat rising up from his chest. He could do this. He had standing in the wizarding world. Headmaster and War Hero…and he could offer help. He  _would_  offer it. Give this little Snape a better start in life than he ever had.

He smirked. Being Headmaster had its privileges.

And with a clap of thunder he disapparated away.

* * *

Hermione left the shop in a daze, habit, thankfully, making her miss the second step and its tendency to swallow her foot to the ankle. Oh, she'd have words now. How dangerous was that step to a mother with her child?

She snorted a laugh. Her other-world self had done an excellent job of instilling a fierce need to protect their son. Not that she  _couldn't_  go the full Molly Weasley when the need arose—

The little boy squirmed in her arms and a thin grisling cry broke from him. Hermione's breath caught at the sudden and strange ache in her breasts. What…?

She tried to rock him, pressing her lips to his warm forehead, but still, nothing. Could she apparate with a newborn? He had to be a tough little thing.  _Incredibly_  tough. He had just moved through the barrier between worlds, after all.

A wetness across her chest and the sweet odour of milk and damp wool stilled Hermione. She blinked. "Oh, I really do think of everything, don't I?  _Feed him._  Of course."

There was a bench outside of Mr Mulpepper's Apothecary, nicely in the shade and a cleansing spell over the shop frontage meant no noxious fumes escaped. She whipped spells over herself and Septimus —a notice-me-not, an opening to her jumper and bra and a warming spell— and nervously put the baby to her breast. The sensation of his eager suckling broke a gasp from her and she stared down at his tiny face in wonder and disbelief.

Her Septimus.

Septimus  _Snape_.

Her other self had had a child with the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Had he been that in their lost world? And what could've drawn them together? Her Severus Snape —and her belly did a little flip of how that would soon be the case— was almost unknown to her.

A polite civility existed on the few occasions they'd met since the last battle. A tight nod from him. A "Hope you are well, sir," from her. He was quiet and dour, didn't court the attentions of the press, who still liked to hound war heroes…

Oh, that was going to be one vast mess wasn't it? A whirlwind marriage and a secret baby. Merlin, no.  _No_. Hermione pushed the mess of it away. Another time, she'd think on that another time.

But Severus Snape.  _Severus_ …

Hermione could hardly imagine the man with anyone, let alone  _her_. After all, his heart was fastened tight to a dead witch.

Her thoughts tumbled on. And their future together. Married. Great Merlin, would that be like? She hoped for respect and friendship. She would get that at least, wouldn't she? And love for their little boy, if not for each other.

Hermione sighed and stroked the soft down of Septimus' black hair away from his sweet little face. And who could not love him? The wry thought struck of who he would take after. Would he, for instance, have his father's infamous nose?

She smiled, her thumb tip caressing the velvet-softness of tiny knuckles that stretched and flexed against her breast. The nose obviously hadn't bothered the other-world Hermione. That woman had loved Snape. Deeply. Had he returned her love before he died? Her chest hollowed at the thought that it had been one-sided. Sex after all, didn't imply a shared affection. Only lust and need.

Hermione stroked the perfection of Septimus' cheek as he noisily suckled. Her heart squeezed. Her child. He was hers now. She couldn't —she  _didn't_ — fight the fierce magic her parallel self had forced on her. Septimus was her blood. She eased him onto her other breast…the drawing down of milk catching her breath again.

And it was only a fortnight till the new moon.

Would Professor Snape—

She spied a flash of red erupting from the Wizarding Supply Shop.  _Ron_. Her belly turned over. In all of the wild thoughts that had chased through her brain in the last few minutes, she'd completely forgotten about Ron.

 _Fuck_ …

Septimus stretched his tiny fingers against her breast and turned his head away. She was gald to focus on him. "Are you full, little man?" She eased him onto her shoulder as she'd seen her cousin do once with her newborn and rubbed slow, gentle circles into his back.

A Herculean belch burst from him and Hermione huffed a laugh. With a murmur of magic, she covered herself again. "Feeling better?"

Sleepy black eyes stared up at her, until his lids closed. A fan of thick black eyelashes touched his pale cheeks. He really was beautiful… "Sleep, my lovely." She pressed a kiss to the velvet softness of his forehead and let out a sigh. "Oh, Septimus, when has my life  _not_  been complicated?"

Ron had proposed the month before. They'd been on and off since that insane kiss on the day of the final battle. A little part of her whispered the thought that it wasn't a grand love. Just that they rubbed along together well —when he wasn't being the most annoying git she had ever met— and they might as well throw their lot in together.

Hermione winced. No, not a grand love at all…

She conjured a length of soft cloth to form a sling and wrapped it with care around her son and herself. She needed books, everything she could find about newborns. And supplies. Money. She needed money. And the expertise of Mrs Weasley. Though could she rely on that witch when she was about to break the engagement to her favourite boy?

"Hermione, what…?" Ron surged up to her and tried to poke a finger into her precious son. That was met with a stinging hex. He yelped and staggered back, staring at her in disbelief. "Now, wait—"

"Hermione…?" Harry was frowning at the sling. It mirrored the muggle device. "Is that…a baby?"

"Yes. He's mine."

" _What_?" Ron spluttered out the question. "How could you have a baby? We've never…  _You've_  never…"

Hermione willed herself not to blush. Yes, her parallel self was so much more…experienced than she was. "It's complicated."

Ron was still rubbing his hand. Well, it'd been a hard hex. He had been about to poke her son! Ron scowled at her. "What, someone just came up to you and said, 'Oh, hello, I'm the Magical Baby Bunny and, congratulations, here's your baby'?"

Hermione looked between him and Harry. "Yes."

Ron blinked and Harry's mouth fell open. Sometimes the fact that they'd been apprentice aurors for over a year seemed simply…amazing. They really would believe just about anything. Though this was the wizarding world. Maybe there  _was_  a Magical Baby Bunny.

Hermione stood. There was a decided whiff about her sweet little boy now and she needed supplies, equipment and information before she tackled Ron, the swift end to their engagement…and her subsequent marriage to Severus Snape.

Her belly cramped, but she shoved away the surge of emotions. The fear, the worry, the disappointment, all of it pushed down. Stamped on. Septimus only had her. And she would not let him down.

Well, Septimus had her and-

Hermione froze.

Oh shit.  _Oh fuck_.

Standing across the street was the tall, billowing, unexpectedly  _glaring_  form of Severus Snape.

* * *

I'm still not sure where this one is going...but it seems to be...going. *shrug*


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

I was finding no way to write anything fanfic-y...and then I watched a tangoing Alan Rickman, got all emotional and 1.5k of this fell out of my fingers...

* * *

"That is…Septimus?"

Hermione thanked Merlin, Nimue, Circe and any other magical being—human or divine— that he had the forethought to stay silent over the baby's last name.

But then he had survived Dumbledore and Voldemort. Severus Snape was an inordinately clever wizard.

She looked up at him, her heart tight, panic there on the edge of her skin. Her baby – _their baby_ — was in danger. He needed both of them. And she would not let Severus Snape escape his duty. "It is. And I need to have a very urgent and important discussion with you, sir."

"What is going on! How do you know about this baby?"

Ron charged forward —all ginger piss and vinegar— and tried to fasten his arm around Hermione's shoulders…but she ducked away and jostled a sleeping Septimus. He grizzled and Hermione pressed her lips to his forehead, humming softly. She tried to believe it was worry for her and the child…but she had the feeling it was more about throwing his weight around. Being _a man_ before the older wizard

Ron still heartily disliked Severus Snape.

" _Mr Weasley_." Snape's voice was stiletto sharp. "I believe Miss Granger is requesting a discussion with me. Not you." His black eyes narrowed. "Please stand back."

"You're not the headmaster of me. I don't have to do _anything_ you say. Not anymore."

Hermione stopped her groan. And there was Ron's almost suicidal bravado. "Ron. This concerns the headmaster. It is private business." She cast an eye about the street and saw more than one witch and wizard had stopped and was _actively_ straining to listen as they stared into a shop window. "Sir—"

" _Private?_ You're my fiancée, Mione. We don't do private."

She did groan then. And shut her eyes. That little tirade had rebounded far enough up the Alley to alert the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron that there was delicious gossip to be had outside…

"Ron—" Harry grabbed his arm and tugged him back. "Not here, mate." He made a deliberate sweep of the street and witches and wizards jerked their faces away —though none moved. "Give Hermione her minute, all right?"

"No, it's not _all right_ —"

"Sir, do you know if it's possible to disapparate with a newborn?"

Snape's dark gaze slid to the arguing men, Harry calm, Ron an escalating tide of blotchy redness. "He will be perfectly safe. Perhaps a little…disgruntled, but magic wraps around the very young. Keeps them safe." His lips pursed. "Might I suggest my rooms at Hogwarts? We would not be…followed. Easily."

"Thank you, yes."

Snape put out his black-sleeved arm and with one arm safely clutching Septimus, she placed her fingers on his sleeve. Warm and smooth, and muscles and bone like iron under her light touch. Her heart thudded and she glanced up at him, her words drying. She nodded that she was ready…

…and with a tight and disconcerting squeeze of magic they arrived in a crack of thunder in a small sitting room.

Septimus shifted against her chest and she pushed back the cloth of the sling to find him still asleep, the black fan of his lashes resting against the pale pink of his cheeks. She smiled, caught again by his utter sweetness…

Oh, she had twisted her own heart well, and she hoped that the magic that had held her in Septimus' thrall worked on his…his father too.

"Please, sit." Snape waved a hand to one of the stuffed, velvet couched in deep blue set below a window. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." She sat and carefully unwound the sling, exposing Septimus and the rather ripe scent that came from a good feeding. "Sir, he needs…"

An elf popped into the room with a stacked tray of tea things. It clattered the tray to the low table set before the couches and stared, its huge eyes bright and luminous. "Oh…" It squeaked and rung its hands. "Oh, a little master. Coy knows what the little master is needing." It looked up to Hermione, lips pressed tight. "Please, mistress, allow my magic to clean him? No hurting. Bright and clean, just a whisper of elf magic."

Hermione looked to Snape, who nodded, before looking back to Coy. "You don't need to hold him?" No she was not giving her child up to an elf, not even a trusted Hogwarts one.

"No, no…see, it is done." The elf pressed its hands together and grinned at her. "A baby. Such a precious one. Here at Hogwarts. _Here_." And with a soft crack, it vanished.

The stink of a ripe nappy had indeed gone. Hermione let out a long breath…and willed herself to look at Professor Snape. Should she start to think of him as…Severus? That still felt odd. Alien. One thing at a time. Namely, telling him that he was a father…

"He is a Snape. How?" Severus…looked up as he poured tea into a small bone-china cup.

"I…"

How did she even begin?

_Well, I was looking into a mirror…and my reflection changed…_

"He is…ours."

Severus looked at her and blinked. " _Ours?_ "

It was a flat question, offering a hint of the shock –and disbelief— that was no doubt rocking him.

"Please, sir, hold him. I… Magic worked on me, perhaps…" She was already half standing and offering the sleeping child to the wizard. And his arms were moving, something obviously tugging in him as it had —did— in her.

Large, pale hands cradled the tiny infant and Hermione's heart lurched, her knees giving out and sinking her back to her couch. Severus held his son in the crook of his arm as if he'd always been there, soft pale blankets rumpled and Septimus' eyelids fluttering.

Severus gasped, something slight, a moment of this defences collapsing as Septimus opened his eyes. Hermione pressed her hand to her mouth and breathed, fighting the burn of tears, the tightness of her throat. She was all too aware that Severus was looking into a mirror of his own eyes.

"How…?"

It was a whisper. Disbelief. _Wonder_. He drew a long finger down the silk-soft bridge of the baby's tiny nose, the trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

Hermione's trembling hand eased from her mouth. She swallowed, willing strength into her voice. "An alternate world. I —the other me— wove a spell to push him here. Her world was lost. Voldemort," she was pleased Severus didn't flinch, not even a hint of it, "had won. Everything was destroyed. You… _Her_ Severus…Snape was dead. Septimus would have no life there. No hope of survival. And so…she found a reality where we… Where we're both alive…"

His gaze was fixed on the perfection of his son. "He needs both of us."

As she'd noted earlier, Severus Snape really was a _very_ clever wizard.

"Yes." Hermione sucked in a deeper breath and Severus looked up from his child, his eyes still bright and warm. It caught her, and she blushed and looked to her tea. "We…we…before the next new moon, we must enter into an official…"

 _Shit. Fuck._ Her nerves ate at her…but his look had thrown her. Something so soft, so gentle from such a wizard. It was…startling. Yes, it was that. Startling.

She looked to Septimus, and her courage swelled. She would _not_ lose her child. "For him to live, we must marry, sir."

Severus looked back to his son. _His son_. Merlin…he'd happily –more than happily— been the last of two perniciously foul bloodlines. But this child, this perfect little human, Septimus Snape—

Oh yes, the other-Hermione Granger was deft in weaving her magic around his mind, his bitter heart. He could feel the delicate threads of love and protection slipping through and melding to his flesh and magic. Subtle. Fixed. Irrevocable.

And he should hate her. Loathe that she was binding him to her other-self. To the bushy-haired harridan that had blighted years of his life.

He should…

And yet, sleepy black eyes stared up at him, slightly unfocused and so…trusting. No fear. No fear of him, of who he was, of the horrors he'd witnessed and committed. His son. _His_.

Severus stroked a petal-soft cheek and Septimus' eyes fluttered and closed. His tiny chest rose and fell in perfect contentment.

"He is our son."

Severus looked up, holding Miss — _Hermione's_ — tear-blurred gaze. She was young. What, nineteen, twenty? And innocent. Fuck, she was _still_ wearing Weasley's engagement ring.

Hell would chase them for this, hound them, but he would protect his child. His _family_.

Severus felt the weight of his son in his arms. No, he would never give this up. Never. "And we must marry."

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

I've added a little each day...then splurged this morning. I really should've been writing something else...*shifty eyes*

* * *

Hermione pressed her lips together, looked away from Severus to the tea tray and set about fixing a cup for herself and him. Her nerves pricked. He'd agreed to marriage —and that was a heavy relief in her chest— but that was only the first hurdle. There were so many more.

"A soul bond." She sat back, sinking into the soft comfort of the couch and watched him over the rim of her cup. "I think…that would be the best way to make absolutely sure Septimus will be safe in our world."

Hermione made herself take a sip of her milky tea and smiled as Severus pushed a tuft of downy black hair from his son's forehead. Her other-self had worked equally hard magic on his mind and heart as she had on hers. But the incentive was there. She needed for her son to live.

"I agree," he murmured, his voice a soft rumble.

Septimus' little fingers stretched and flexed under the thrum of his father's voice. Had the other Severus ever held his son? Watched his Hermione's belly swell with his child? Had he even known he existed? Hermione held back a sigh. There were so many gaps and questions that could never be answered.

Severus stroked his thumb over tiny knuckles. "And we should not hide the truth of who he is. He is our son. But he was _theirs_ first."

Hermione's throat tightened at the thought of what that witch and wizard had lost. What her other-self had lost. What she'd given up… Quickly, she sipped at her tea, before tears broke from her. Her hormones would be…all over the place, what with the spell making her able to feed their child. That had to account for her sudden ache, but compassion was there too.

No, they would give Septimus the best life to honour her sacrifice.

She nodded. "When should we…?"

Severus looked up at her, his dark eyes sure and determined. "Today. Kingsley owes me a favour. I will bring him here, dragging him wrapped in a sheet if necessary, to perform the ceremony." He looked back to the baby. "I want no risk to him."

"No…"

His gaze was now fixed on her left hand as it wrapped around the china cup. "Though I would feel less…concerned if you would remove Mr Weasley's ring." His lips pursed. "There is magic in a betrothal…Hermione."

She blinked at the use of her name, the strangeness of it in his rich voice, her cup frozen at her lips. "Oh. Oh, yes." The cup clattered into the saucer and she was tugging at Ron's ring.

Had the metal always been this tight? Pain seared her skin, biting down to the bone. Severus had said there was magic in a betrothal, but this?

Maybe…maybe she should just keep the ring? Ron wasn't really all that bad—

Her gaze fell on Septimus in his father's arms…

What was she _thinking_? How could she even contemplate staying with Ron when she had to marry Severus? What…?

A spark of guilt rioted through her as she scraped the ring free of her finger. They'd made an agreement… No. No. She pushed out a hot, relieved breath, her mind clearing. She knew —she had always known— that it would not be a happy marriage. A marriage of equals. But…would she have that now, with this wizard?

A sour twist of magic broke a hiss from her and she dropped the suddenly hot metal onto the tea tray.

Severus was frowning at her. "There was a bind on you?"

"A bind?" She looked to the ring sitting on the tray and resisted the urge to poke the thing. It appeared innocent enough, but something itched about it, something she'd never noticed before. And her thoughts… She'd considered _staying with Ron_.

Fuck, had Ron given her a _cursed_ ring?

"Ron said it was a Weasley heirloom."

"Ah, a pureblood bond ring." His dark eyes fixed on her. "For…reluctant brides."

He resettled Septimus against the crook of his left arm and pressed an absent kiss to the baby's forehead. He seemed totally unaware of the action and it warmed Hermione, chasing through the bitterness surging against her very-much- _former_ fiancé.

"Your other-self did you a great favour. Those things are often hellish to break."

Had Ron known? No, he hadn't, he seemed as clueless about magical culture —unless it involved food or quidditch— as he was about muggle culture. Had Molly suggested it? Or had he simply swiped it, and Molly had been reluctant to point out what the ring actually did…?

"It influenced me."

"To a degree." Severus waved his hand and the ring spun into the air, his gaze narrowing on it. "It is very old. Weakened. Perhaps no one in the family felt its magic as its attuned to their combined bloods." It slipped back to the tray with a soft, deceiving _tink_. "Still, it should be handed to the Aurors. Binding rings were made illegal in the middle of the eighteenth century."

So a cursed, _illegal_ betrothal ring. _Oh, Ron_.

"And how do we do this?" Hermione unpressed her lips and willed herself to say his name. "Severus." She picked up her cup again, bolstered by having something to do rather than knot her fingers. "I mean… Our marriage. We're strangers, practically speaking…and we're being thrown together, with a newborn. An instant family—"

"Hermione…"

His voice was smooth and sure and quiet and broke her rambling. She twitched a nervous smile.

"I had every intention of sponsoring this little Snape before I knew who he was." He looked to Septimus and a smile tugged at his mouth as the baby's long lashes flickered and shining black-irised eyes stared up at him. "You're with us again, I see, Master Snape."

Septimus yawned and stretched, but remained secure in Severus' arms and his eyelids grew heavy again.

"Or not," Hermione murmured and was surprised to share a smile with Severus. They had their son in common, but they couldn't —and shouldn't— have that as the foundation of their marriage.

_A marriage of equals._

How could she equal him? He was older, more experienced, a well-renowned Master of Potions and practioner of the Dark Arts. Headmaster. Now a famous and respected wizard. She held back a sigh. She would have to start with what she was.

"I'm a Charms Apprentice with the Ministry. Just entering my second year. I…" She pursed her lips. "I don't know how I can continue with having to care and feed Septimus."

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "Filius has had a constant gripe that you chose that path. There have been many grumblings over many meals."

Hermione blinked. "I never approached him because," she winced, "I have no wish to teach."

"That can be…worked around. Miss Lovegood has joined us as a Charms Apprentice. She will aid Filius in the classroom."

Luna. _Teaching_. Though Hermione supposed it would be hard for anything to break her unflappable calm. And she wouldn't have Harry and Draco in her classes…

"I would not deny you your career, Hermione." Severus smirked down at his son. "We can work a schedule for you around this one's stomach." He looked up and his dark eyes were sober. He drew in a long breath. "I would prefer that we remain…exclusive to one another. As much to build a life together —as you say, we are strangers— as to avoid yet more scandal."

"Ron…" Hermione winced. "Ron and I were together more from it being expected than any true…" She'd been about to say _desire_ , but quailed before the word. Yes, that would have to be addressed too, wouldn't it? Shit. "I…we, we never… I have never." She huffed an embarrassed laugh and nodded to Septimus. " _He_ would be something of a miracle."

And hurried on at Severus' slow blink. "I hope that I'm not ruining anything for you."

He gave a slow shake of his head. "Nothing…serious."

_Nothing serious_. Severus Snape had a nothing serious. The questions itched at Hermione. _Who was she?_ And no that wasn't a hint of hurt jealousy pricking under her skin. She had been fully engaged to another wizard. She had no right to be—

"It has always been something…casual."

Maybe that was it? Hermione couldn't be casual about something as intimate as sex. Her self-protecting walls were too high. And, if she was brutally honest, no one had ever really…aroused her.

_Ron certainly hadn't._

"You are aware that a soul bond requires immediate consummation?"

_Yes_. Yes, she was aware of that, at the back of her mind, and now it was at the front, wasn't it? The _very_ front.

Severus Snape as her first, her only lover. There was a power to him, a darkness that maybe, maybe she could admit—now—that had always intrigued her. He wasn't handsome, but then she was hardly pretty. His magnetism was undeniable…and coupled with his deft hands and…and –her belly did a strange little flip— _his voice_ …

Her face grew hot and she nodded, her words dried. Oh yes, she knew about immediate comsummation, all right.

"I…" His voice was unbearably soft and there was something under it. "I…will not hurt you, Hermione."

_Pain_. It was pain. Oh, he thought— "No, I know that. I know that _absolutely_. It's me. It's all me. I…" She looked to her feet, her grip on her cup so tight her knuckles strained. The swirl of magic stirred, wisps of it slipping through her hair. "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you."

"Yes, you've always sought my regard, haven't you Hermione?"

Her head snapped up, her heart a sudden drum. There'd been an undercurrent to his smooth words, murmured in _that_ voice, something –Merlin save her—something deliciously _hot_.

"Come here."

And Hermione was tottering to her feet as if drawn up on strings. Her cup clattered to the tray again. She crossed the short distance between the couches and stood before him, nervous, uncertain, and with entire pack of pixies rioting in her stomach.

Severus took her left hand and drew his warm, callused thumb over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. A light touch. Gentle. But intimate, so intimate that it drew a soft gasp from her and a shockingly quick warmth in her flesh. As if he had always…

Magic curled around her ring finger and a thin band of electrum —she could _feel_ the unity of silver and gold— and a shining disc of green jade appeared.

"An heirloom." There was a gleam of humour in the endless dark of his eyes. "My great grandmother left it to me. There is no other magic than is natural to the stone and combined metals. A ring to draw balance and peace to you."

"To us both."

Hermione grabbed everything that was Gryffindor about herself and wrapped it around her will. She pressed her left hand to his jaw, the smooth warmth of his skin a surprise and delight, before she dipped her mouth to his.

Severus met her unsure kiss with a smoothness, an ease that jumped her pulse. A tease of firm lips, the hint of inner heat, the taste of mint and something darkly sweet… Him? Was that _his_ taste?

His soft groan surprised her and parted her lips…and his tongue swept a slow and delicious line across her bottom lip, a flicker to the top and then—

She was kissing him. Her fingers in the inky silk of his hair, the ache deep in her belly to press herself against him, find skin and heat and more. This was right. So incredibly, so gorgeously _right_ …

"Hermione."

Severus drew back, his hair mussed by her grasping fingers, his pale cheeks delightfully pinked. His lips plumped.

And an embarrassed heat smacked into her. She'd happily _snogged_ him…as he held their son. "Oh Merlin!" She dropped to a crouch, her hand on their baby's narrow chest. It rose and fell under her light touch. Thankfully, he hadn't stirred. "I never thought…"

"The poor boy is scarred for life."

Hermione's gaze snapped up, her heart in her throat, before she saw the wicked shine of amusement in his eyes. Her mouth pressed together. "Not funny."

"But…as you see, I am not disappointed."

The sweet taste of him still tingled on her lips. She gave him a twitch of a smile. "No, not at all."

His shoulders lifted, straighened. "And now I must go and drag Kingsley from his bed."

"It's almost lunch..."

"He and Miss Lovegood prefer to lie in on a Sunday."

" _Luna?_ " It was a high-pitched squeal audible only to crups and she slapped her hand to her mouth, looking guiltily to Septimus. He was obviously _not_ a crup and happily slept on.

"The favour I am owed, I believe. I introduced them." Severus smirked, and Hermione was finding that devilishly wicked look more and more to her liking. "Now, if you will take our very well-behaved son, and I will be back shortly."

With minimal fuss, Septimus was deposited in her care and she was sitting in the place Severus had occupied. He pressed a kiss to his son's forehead and with a dark look that caught her breath, eased a light kiss across her parted lips.

A moment later, the floo flared green and Severus Snape swept from the room.

Hermione stared down at the blissfully sleeping baby in her arms. Her fingertips pressed to her lips, the tingle there, a soft —and delicious—burn. And…it felt like a memory, as if he'd kissed her before. That he knew her mouth, knew exactly how…

Hermione sucked in a quick breath and pressed her lips together. Her pulse was still a riot and she was certain her cheeks were quite, quite pink. "Your father really can kiss, Septimus." A soft laugh from her. "But you never want to know what your parents get up to…"

And that thought —that scary and rather hot thought— chased yet more heat into her face.

_Damn_.

* * *

Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

_*Sneaking in to update this fic* *Sh-h-h...* *Don't tell original fic writing me...*_

* * *

_He'd kissed a former student._

Severus winced. That wasn't difficult. He'd been teaching since before Merlin was born, so any witch he kissed —any witch he _desired_ — had more than likely been in his classroom.

And —Merlin pickle and preserve him— he _did_ desire her.

The twist of magic was there in his flesh, working him, opening him to her…assets. The perfect curve of her throat. The shine of brilliance in her dark eyes. And how she tasted…

Sweet and dark and so _innocent_. Fuck. Severus wiped a hand over his face. Oh, under it _all_ was Hermione Granger's sure touch, but with something different. Something…off. As if it were set a little to the right.

He huffed a sour breath. Well, now he knew what other dimensional magic felt like. And it was working through him. To bind her and ultimately Septimus Snape to his heart like Devil's Snare…

A smile touched his mouth, the tug of it pleasant and with a feeling of wholeness he'd never experienced before. Oh, she was a twisty and clever witch, this other Hermione. But…he found he didn't mind this manipulation. Septimus was a gift.

As was _his_ Hermione. And gods, she was _his_ —

"How can Tufie be helping the Potions Headmaster?"

Kingsley's little elf stared up at him from the open doorway. He blinked owlishly, his luminous eyes polite and sure.

Yes, Severus had been woolgathering on Kingsley's Islington doorstep. But then he had just bound himself to a witch and become a father all within the matter of an hour. Woolgathering was allowed.

"I'm here to see Minister Shacklebolt."

"Does the Potions Headmaster have an appointment?"

"No. However, the matter is urgent."

"The Minister Shacklebolt has left specific instructions never to be disturbed on a Sunday morning."

Severus held his patience. The elf was only doing as Kingsley asked. "I understand. Can you please inform him that a child's life is at stake?"

The elf blinked. Yes, the way to get through to any elf was to talk of an endangered child.

Tufie's little shoulders drew up under this beautifully laundered pillowcase and the war was there in his elfin face. To obey his master, or ensure the safety of a child. He jerked a nod. "Please be waiting in the hall, Potions Headmaster."

Severus crossed into the boxy hall with its eclectic mix of object d'art. The wide front door closed behind him, Tufie bowed again and popped away.

Severus sat in the padded chair beside a long shelf and frowned at a strange bowl of coloured beads and bottletops in a bowl set there. Beyond it was more, little ceramic bowls and dishes, hand crafted and wand-painted in every colour imaginable. And some colours he didn't want to imagine ever again. The magic of them hummed. Something sweet and ancient. Timeless. And there, threading through that, was the rather distinct signature of Miss Lovegood.

His mouth quirked into a smile. She was moving in. Soon Kingsley would be up to his bald head in odd pots—

"Severus."

Kingsley stood in the doorway, tying a knot in his long, red dressing gown. His mouth was thinned. Yes, the Minister was not happy to have his time with Luna Lovegood interrupted.

So Severus would get straight to the point.

He stood and brushed the creases from his frockcoat. "I need a soul-bond marriage rite performed. Right now."

Kingsley blinked. And blinked again. "I will need coffee for this, won't I?"

Severus huffed a laugh and followed the Minister through the hallway and towards his bright kitchen. "That. And maybe something a lot stronger."

He nodded to Miss Lovegood, who stood on the bottom step of the great curve of stairs, her pale hair wild, her cheeks flushed and her slight frame swamped by a heavy, dark blue blanket.

"Miss Lovegood."

"There's a strange magic threaded through you, Headmaster." She frowned, a crease forming on her clear brow. "A fierce binding magic…with something else. Something folded within it."

Severus often suspected a drop of Fae blood in the Lovegood ancestry. The young woman had always seen beyond even the magical world to things…hidden. "Would you join us please, Miss Lovegood?"

"Call me Luna, Severus. Since I will be a witness to your marriage rites." She gave him a bright smile. "I never thought she suited him, you know. Not for a wild heartbeat. You're a _much_ better fit." A wave of wandless magic transfigured her blanket into a deep blue tea dress covered in bright daisies and monsters. She floated past him through the kitchen archway. "Anyway, I'm sure Hermione's delighted..."

There was a stunned shout of " _Luna?_ What? _Hermione Granger_?" followed by glass smashing against a stone floor.

"Oh, Kingsley," Luna's soft voice carried out, "would you deny your friend a lovely young lover, too?"

As yet more glass shattered, Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and put Septimus to the forefront of his mind.

It was going to be a _long_ day.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

O-fic is stalling all over the place today. Guess what isn't...?

* * *

"Severus, Misters Potter and Weasley are flooding my room with their patronus. Mr Weasley's rather irritating terrier is declaring that you've kidnapped his fiancé. Mr Potter's is full of apology for his, apparently, rather over-reacting friend—"

Minerva bustled into the Headmaster's sitting room and stopped dead. Her eyebrows rose and she peered over her glasses. " _Not_ so farfetched then?"

Hermione offered an unsure smile as she sat on Severus' couch, an arrangement of magically fixed cushions supporting her arm as she held Septimus. He was still sleeping, but Hermione was reluctant to put him down. Like Severus, she didn't trust that the magic that held him to their world would fail before the marriage bond was secured.

"Good afternoon, Professor."

The older witch blinked. "Miss Granger. And who…?"

"Septimus Snape."

Minerva's mouth opened and closed. "Snape." The name came out on a huffed breath. "A relation to…?"

Their decision, in the very short time they'd been officially betrothed —She glanced at the clock. All of ten minutes— that they would not hide their baby's history or parentage, was already coming into play.

Having the new Minister for Magic giving –literally— his seal of approval would aid them in the coming storm. She hoped. But that was not helping her now under the withering gaze of her former professor.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, his son."

The witch sank onto the opposite couch. An elf appeared with a smoky tumbler of firewhiskey, put it in Minerva's hand and popped away. The Deputy Head knocked it back in one gulp and orange flames flickered out around her lips. "His… _son_?" She waved the empty glass at Hermione. "And…you, Miss Granger, what are you…?"

"I'm little Septimus' mother."

The same elf. Another, larger tumbler of firewhiskey. One gulp. And a deeper curl of _white_ flames.

A stag charged through the door, stopping and stamping a silvery hoof. _"Yet more, apologies, Professor, but now we're at the Gates. Ron is…well…puce. And shouting. He's wrapped a jinx around himself and I can't pull him away and back to the Burrow. I have grabbed his wand, so that should be the end of this venting by patronus."_

And the large stag dissolved, floating away on silvered wisps.

"Thank Merlin for small mercies, he was channelling his mother." Minerva wiped a hand down her face. "It is always you three. Even though you've long left this school." She lifted an eyebrow, her lips pinched. "I am surprised Mr Potter has not burst in to blame it all on Mr Malfoy."

Hermione snorted, a break of humour, and she shook her head. She wondered whether their old professor wanted the truth of Harry's interest in Draco Malfoy. But then their on-off…shagfest —Draco's words— could hardly be more shocking than the baby currently in her arms. Though naturally, Harry had yet to tell Ron…

"Not quite, no." Hermione looked to the huge fireplace and the flicker of flames in the blackened hearth, wanting Severus back to face this with her. "The Headmaster…" Hermione decided against using his first name, the Professor's liver might not stand for it. "Is with the Minister, he should be back shortly."

Another stag leapt into the room. _"I tried to stop him, but Hagrid opened the gates and Ron is on his way."_ A pause and Harry's impatient, _"Ron, this is ridicu—"_

And the patronus faded.

"Oh good grief!"

Hermione expected the pop of an elf and a bucket of firewhiskey.

Minerva narrowed her eyes over her glasses. "Two is my limit, Miss Granger." She nodded to a snuggling and happily sleeping Septimus. "And I welcomed both." She swept to her feet. "I must now go and stun Mr Weasley before he does something utterly stupid. Inform Severus that I want a word with him."

Hermione held back a wince. It was hardly his fault that they now had to unexpectedly parent a baby. "He is completely innocent."

"The only innocent one is the babe in your arms, Miss Granger."

Hermione stared at the hard-shut door, before glancing down at her son. He sleep so easily, so well through all the madness and she almost envied him. "Oh Septimus, this is a mess, isn't it?" She pressed a kiss to his velvet soft forehead, his sweet baby scent easing around her heart. Her other-self had more strength than she did. She could not give up this little boy—

"Mione!"

Ron's screech rose up through the castle walls and Hermione closed her eyes. She let out a long breath. It would be fair to face him. To explain what she had to do for her son…

The memory flashed of a shared kiss and her face warmed. It had been surprisingly…lovely. As if they had always kissed and it was right to do so.

"Mione! Snape —you bastard— where is she?"

Hermione groaned. She could hardly have him slandering the Headmaster all over the school. Standing, she wove a protective sling around Septimus and with her wand drawn, went to find her former fiancé.

She didn't have to look far.

Ron had somehow managed to slip past Professor McGonagall and was screeching and threatening the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's rooms.

"Mione!"

Ron rushed towards her as she stepped down the last of the stone stairs, but she put up her wand. He lurched back, and his own wand was out, magic swirling around him.

"What's he done to you? He'd cursed you. Harry!" Harry was a shadowy, heavily breathing blur at the end of the long corridor. "Harry, he's put a curse on her!"

"I am holding a baby, Ronald. Rushing me would've crushed him."

Ron frowned. "That baby again? Why in Merlin's name do you have a _baby_?"

"Because he's mine. Harry," her winded friend huffed his way towards them, "both of you, come up to the sitting room. I'll explain."

"You'll explain right here!"

Hermione pinched her lips together. Who did he think he was? Who did he think _she_ was to talk to her in such a way? The anger at the cursed ring he'd palmed off on her reignited. "No. I will not." She turned back to the stairs and her voice echoed in the stone stairwell. "And you, Ronald Weasley, have explaining of _your own_ to do."

"I have nothing to explain—"

"Your ring, Ron. Your _cursed_ ring."

A wry smile tugged at her mouth as those three words were met with complete silence.

There it was. He'd _known_.

Git.


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

And here's me, spinning from one fic to another... ;-)

* * *

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

Harry leant around the stone jamb of the open door to Severus' sitting room, still flushed and his breathing quick and uneven. "Professor McGonagall got swept up in children." He winced. "All eager to get a look at me...and Ron got through."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. We needed to speak." Her gaze slipped to the cursed ring sitting so innocently on the low table. "About a number of things."

Harry frowned at the ring and looked to her, but Hermione simply gave him a short smile, rearranged herself on the couch, Septimus tucked into her body and her wand tight in her free right hand.

Harry was more sensible post-war. And she put that down to the distinct absence of a chunk of Voldemort's soul as an unwanted passenger. But Ron… Ron was still…Ron.

And he was huffing and muttering as the spiral stairs carried him upwards.

Harry's wand slipped into his hand as Ron surged into the little sitting room. He closed the door and pushed himself away to stand behind his old friend. Sharp and aware. And for the first time, Hermione saw the auror in him.

Ron—oblivious Ron—jerked to a stop and rocked back on his heels.

"You took off my ring."

Ah, not so oblivious then. Hermione's lips pursed. "And I still have the red welts. A cursed ring, Ron? A bonding ring for reluctant brides? _Really?_ "

The mottled flush to his already reddened face deepened. "It's a family heirloom. You should've been proud to have it."

"You _knew_."

Only holding Septimus kept her from charging at the imbecilic wizard and trying to slap some sense in him. It would be futile. Oh, but it would feel _wonderful_.

She pulled in a breath and resettled her fingers against her precious little boy.

"Well, you'll be happy to know I got over my reluctance. It's now a definite fuck off and fuck you, Ronald Weasley."

She closed her eyes. Oh dear. It seemed she was still _very angry_. And really she shouldn't swear in front of her child. She pressed her lips together to deny a smile. Really, the poor boy. Already scarred by being witness to his parents kissing and now this.

"But you haven't, have you? You kept your legs together with a permanent sticking charm and I thought—"

Ron bit of the rest of his words and Hermione was staring at him in shocked disbelief. "You thought…?" She blinked, willing down the surge of wild magic that wanted to lash against him. It was so much worse than she could've imagined. So much worse. "You thought that your cursed ring would get me to _sleep_ with you?"

He jutted out his jaw, hard and belligerent and she understood Severus' dislike of the Gryffindor breed. "Well nothing else would."

"Ron, mate…" Harry was shaking his head, disgust thick in his voice. "That's low."

"Well you have that git, Snape now, don't you? More than happy to knock boots with the Greasy Git, eh Mione?"

"Indeed, she does…have me."

All blood drained from Ron.

Severus strode out from the hearth in a surge of green fire, smoke and the billow of his black robes. Hermione bit her lip. Oh, the wizard could make an entrance...

She found herself smiling, a rush of relief settling her magic. She rose, wanting, needing to have him close, the security he offered their son…and her. And it seemed he had the same idea as he stepped to her side, tucking the sleeping Septimus into his chest, his arm around her. His wand was firm in his left hand. The rightness of the three of them, of the pull of magic eased through her, his heat, his strength, his scent wrapping around her. His right hand flexed and squeezed her upper arm and she hoped -she wanted- him to find the same peace in her.

" _What did you do to her?_ " Ron bit out the words, anger hot and pressured around the question.

And perhaps her very-much-kicked-to-the-kerb fiance was witnessing just that. _Good_.

Severus lifted an eyebrow. "I believe we should wait for our guests before—"

Ron was slammed against a bare stretch of wall, his startled screech cutting through the air. In a blaze of spells, his arms and legs were pinned, his head thrown back and his red hair splayed in spidery strands against the cracked plaster. His wand slid from his stiff fingers and dropped to the stone floor with a soft _tink_.

Severus turned, stalking towards the trapped wizard. Fury held him tight. He jabbed his wandtip into Ron's jaw and his eyes narrowed as Ron gagged and swallowed and shook.

"You would hex a woman…holding a _baby_?"

It was a low and ferocious growl and Hermione's skin pricked. The anger rolled off him, his eyes slate-black and just as hard and cold.

"He is _my_ son. And I will defend to _my_ _very last breath_ what is mine. Do you understand, Mr Weasley?"

Ron jerked a nod. Or as much as he could with his head slammed to the plaster.

"I believe you will be safer there, whilst we proceed." Severus turned on his heel, his black gaze sliding over Harry, before returning to her. "He is waking, Hermione."

She blinked, the half-formed "Who?" on her lips before Septimus' soft little grizzle pushed into the silence of the room. She smiled down at him, shifting him in her arms…but caught with her wand—

"Here." Severus took their son with an ease that still surprised her. He rocked Septimus, murmuring soft words, simply uncaring that Harry and Ron were witness to him and his interactions with his son. That fact swelled around her heart. Severus Snape would be a wonderful -if completely fearsome- father.

Harry was staring at her now. "Son?" He mouthed the question, his eyebrows high over his glasses.

Hermione shrugged and flashed her left hand at him, wiggling her ring finger and grinning as Harry blinked twice. Hard.

"When you have finished miming at each other?" Severus looked up and pinned Harry with one of his infamous glares. Harry flushed and winced. "We are waiting on Minerva. The Minister and Miss Lovegood will also join us shortly. They are aware of the…circumstances surrounding Septimus. So once…"

A rap at the door moved his gaze to it.

"And here she is."

"Severus Tobias Snape, if you don't tell me what is going on this _instant_ —"

His glare and a long finger to his mouth quieted her. "Septimus has just woken up. I prefer he not be further disturbed."

Minerva blinked and frowned. "Why is Mr Weasley pinned to the wall?"

"As I said, I prefer my son remain...undisturbed."

The twist of a dark smile pulled at Severus' mouth and Hermione stopped herself from biting her lip. He looked so deliciously…wicked. And the thought caught her. Held her. Her heart thudding. Merlin, had she ever thought this about him before? Yes. Yes, she had... The dark little secret she'd buried deep many years before, a secret she convinced herself was simply a school girl crush. Had her other-self started out the same way…but _never_ denied it?

"Have you had your whiskies, Minerva?"

The Scottish witch's lips pinched together. " _Severus…_ " It was tight and waspish.

Severus gave her a practised —a Slytherin— smile and the play of their long association was right there. Something about it, even in that stressful moment, warmed Hermione.

"Well," Severus looked to the baby in his arms, who reached up to grab at his cravat, little fingers tugging and fisting, "you very well might need more."


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

"So, you're saying," Minerva accepted a heavy splash of firewhiskey into her fat tumbler, "that for your little man there to stay safe and well with us, you -you both- as the very definition of in _loco parentis_ , must marry—"

"Will marry," Hermione broke in, with a sharp nod and a look to Severus.

"…before the new moon."

"Will marry…today."

Harry was cradling his own glass —his second refill— hunched forward as he frowned at them both. "And his…origins, the fact that he comes from a world were everything was lost, you're not going to hide that?"

"Why would we?"

Hermione drew in a long breath, the thought of all that their other selves had lost tearing at her. She was surprised when Severus covered one of her hands with his own, a rough warmth that eased the riot within her. He squeezed, but didn't release her…and for that she was thankful.

"They lost everything. She —his mother— gave him up for a better life. A life where he could know his father. Where he would be safe."

"But if someone had the same plan? But in reverse? To drag Voldemort to this world. To give him the chance to conquer world after world." Harry scrubbed a hand over his face, fear haunting his green eyes. "We can't let that happen."

"We will not, Mr Potter." Kingsley strode from the Severus' fireplace with a smiling Luna in his wake.

Harry jerked to his feet, the lesson obviously beaten in already about respecting his superiors. Severus caught Hermione's eye and his brow lifted. His thought was practically visible.

_They got Potter to obey?_

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and his mouth twitched.

"At ease, Harry."

Kingsley's dark gaze flicked to Ron, but he said nothing. Free of the cursed ring, Hermione had little wonder that no one questioned the fact that Ron Weasley had —at some point in the recent past— been a complete dick.

"The mirror is now secured in the Department of Mysteries. Though…"

He waved a hand to Luna who caught his fingers and pressed a light kiss to their tips. His dark eyes warmed and a hint of jealousy caught Hermione. The surprise of it made her blink and the thought swirled: would she have that total ease with Severus? After all, they were practically strangers—

"This other dimensional magic —though wondrous— is dependent on sacrifice. Willing sacrifice. Something utterly selfless." Luna's gleaming eyes moved over her…and Severus and a brief —but sad— smile pulled at her mouth. "No one would offer that for Tom Riddle, Harry."

"How do you—?"

Harry bit off the rest of his question. Yes, it was Luna. Luna simply…knew.

His shoulders dropped and he eased his bloodless hold on his glass. "Then we're safe."

Kingsley nodded. "I trust Luna's view on this."

The young Ravenclaw witch beamed up at him and pressed his palm to her lips. "You say the sweetest things, my lovely Minster of all things magical." Her eyes sparkled and none could miss the pink flick of her tongue between his fingers. "Including…me."

Hermione's face flared with heat, Severus winced and Minerva put her glass out for another elfish refill.

"Our bond, Kingsley." Severus looked to his son, whose eyes had drifted shut again. "It _is_ why you're here."

The Minister pulled his gaze away from Luna and nodded. "Please stand."

Hermione rose, her fingers threading through Severus'. To do so was… warm and strangely right. And comforting in a way that Ron's sweaty palm had never been. Severus cradled Septimus in the crook of his right arm, their sweet little boy still happily snoozing.

Her heart squeezed, the unexpected joy of…of a _family_ catching and spinning her emotions. She had woken that morning with the idea of mooching about in dusty old curios to avoid the nightmare that was the Quidditch Supply Shop…and never for one moment—

"Hermione…"

Severus' voice was soft and warm and the bow of his lips quirked upwards. She met his midnight gaze and blinked. "Are you ready to marry me?"

Her breath caught, the echo of something else, something older there under his words.

"Yes…"

"We're ready, Kingsley."

Hermione blinked. What had…? Was the magic reaching out for her already?

"Lift up your hands."

Severus drew her trembling arm up and behind her, muffled shrieks and the crack of plaster said Ron was not best pleased. Strength flowed into her arm at that thought of what could have been her fate.

_Mrs Ron Weasley._

No. Oh _hell_ , no.

"This will be short...and strong. The use of a matrimonial soul-binding is not taken lightly."

Hermione stilled, a fist wrapping around her heart. "Is this safe for Septimus?"

"This binding is _for_ him, Hermione." Luna tilted her head and smiled at the little boy. "He's perfectly safe with his father."

Severus' fingers squeezed hers at Luna's soft and so-sure pronouncement.

Kingsley wrapped his hands around both of theirs and a cool wreath of glittering magic chased out from his fingers to wind and curl up their arms.

"I bind you both, soul to soul. One to the other. Magic bound and shared down and on through eternity."

His hands released them, but the magic remained firm, wound around their joined hands and winding up to the elbow.

Kingsley smiled. "You may kiss."

Severus turned and eased forward, careful of the baby held in the free crook of his arm. A brush of lips, sweet and slow and Hermione was uncaring that Harry was gaping at them. Or that he'd put out his glass for another elfish refill.

It was right. It was good. _So_ good…

And magic chased on through Hermione's flesh in a hot and dizzying rush, sweeping over her skin in a silver glitter, winding and twisting, flowing and wrapping around Septimus –who slept on as only he could— to curve around Severus, slipping over cloth and under skin. And back, back to her, looping and rolling, almost finding a form, as a patronus would.

"Beautiful," Severus murmured and he smiled down at her, black eyes lit with silver. His lips brushed her ear. "I have you now, my wife."

A delicious shiver caught her and her mouth dried. Hers. He was hers. And some part of her, long denied, murmured… _Finally_.

Luna beamed at them. "Let me take little Septimus." She put out her arms. "He's quite safe now. But you…" Her eyes sparkled, as silver as the magic that still wreathed around them. "…you have to seal this bond, with kisses and touches and some rather magnificent fu—"

" _Thank you, Luna!_ " Kingsley's voice broke over hers and he drew in a sharp breath. He swept a shaking hand over his bald head. " _Yes_ …yes, the bond must be sealed. Septimus will be save with us. I swear it."

A warm sprinkle of magic caught his oath, and Hermione, her face still fiercely hot from Luna's words, looked to Severus, who handed over their precious son to her friend.

Hermione's fingers delayed on the wild tuft of the baby's black hair, pushing it back from his velvet-soft forehead. "He's been recently fed and changed. Call for Coy if he gets a little…ripe."

She willed her hand away, looked to Severus and drew on her Gryffindor courage. "Shall we… _husband_?"

There was a hint of wickedness in Severus' smile as he took her hand and drew it to his lips. His gaze slipped to Ron, before meeting hers again. "I believe we most definitely shall."

Ron's wild thrashing was matched only by Professor McGonagall and Harry collapsing on a couch as one and holding out matching empty tumblers. Kingsley was frowning again at Ron. And Luna had curled into a seat, holding Septimus close.

"You know, Kingsley, I believe I would like six of these. A nice even number."

Hermione laughed as Kingsley's hand was suddenly filled with his own glass of firewhiskey and he sank down next to Harry, staring, simply _staring_ at his witch. A tick starte to jump under his eye.

" _Six?_ "

Luna smiled, something bright and free and oblivious to Kingsley's mounting panic. "Yes, as a start, Kingsley, my love."

The Minister for Magic knocked back his glass in one.

Severus waved Hermione through an arched door and up the narrow twist of dimly lit stairs. "Miss Lovegood, I believe, has everything, and _everyone_ , well in hand."

Hermione, the chase of magic still clinging to her flesh, took to the stairs, too aware of the wizard following close behind. Her heart was tight and aching and nerves had her palms damp. But, Merlin, she wanted this. Wanted _him_.

And another hidden part of her whispered... _It's about bloody time_.


End file.
